


What On Earth Were You Thinking?

by afteriwake



Series: In Another Version Of Events [1]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: F/M, POV Sherlock Holmes, Poor Molly, Pre-Sherlock Holmes/Molly Hooper, Season/Series 01, Sherlock Being Sherlock, Sherlock Being an Idiot, Sherlock Is A Bit Not Good, Sherlock-centric
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-24
Updated: 2015-11-24
Packaged: 2018-05-03 06:18:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,242
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5279972
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/afteriwake/pseuds/afteriwake
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Sherlock learns Molly’s thirtieth birthday is coming up, he decides to throw her a surprise party. But he knows very little about her, and doesn’t really care to learn more other than the fact she loves her job. </p><p>What could possibly go wrong?</p>
            </blockquote>





	What On Earth Were You Thinking?

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Twentyonedaydreams](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Twentyonedaydreams/gifts), [mellovesall](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mellovesall/gifts).



> My friend **Twentyonedaydreams** gave me a really great prompt a while back (" _Sherlock decides to throw Molly a surprise birthday party but she hates surprises and he doesn't pay enough attention to her to know the things she likes besides investigating bodies so he uses Google and the morgue and it turns out terrifying_ ") that's been sitting in my prompt folder for a while until yesterday, when **mellovesall** picked it in my acronym free-for-all grab. I had a lot of fun writing this and I'm considering turning it into a series (though I'm not sure...I feel in the mood to rewrite the show for some reason, but only if there's interest). But anyway, I hope you all enjoy!

“What do you think about Molly Hooper?”

“Lovely girl. A bit strange, but still. Lovely, absolutely lovely.”

“Her birthday’s coming up, yeah?”

“Yeah. She’ll be thirty, I think.”

“God, such an awful birthday for her. I mean, to be single and have no friends, and to really have no life other than her job down at the morgue. I mean, does she spend time with anyone, really?”

“Meena at the Sexual Health Centre, sometimes. And Connie in Phlebotomy.” The woman in front of him at the hospital canteen paused. “Seems to have a preoccupation with that Holmes bloke who consults with Scotland Yard.”

“Don’t know why. He’s an arse.”

“Rather handsome, though. In an aristocratic sense.”

“Unfortunately.”

Sherlock had heard enough at that point. He cleared his throat and the two women started, their eyes wide when they spotted him. He gave him his best glare, the type where he knew his eyes looked icy blue and his stare could literally freeze people in its tracks. They quickly hurried their way through getting their meal together and got out of his way, leaving him in peace without their incessant babbling.

Though their babbling had given him some pertinent information.

Molly Hooper was an important person to him, he supposed. Of all the specialist registrars on staff she was the one he preferred to work with. She best tolerated his…quirks, he supposed he could call them, and she was more easily manipulated for his purposes. His new flat mate had been encouraging him to be nicer to those he worked with, and he supposed he should make an effort to do so with her. Perhaps if he did, she would be more pliable to his needs in the future.

That never hurt.

But what, exactly, could he do?

**\---**

It hit him a few days later: a surprise party. If her social life was as miserable as it had been implied he doubted there would be many guests, so he would keep the guest list simple, down to himself, John, Lestrade, and perhaps Mrs. Hudson. He had no idea of places to have one and the only place he knew she frequented was the morgue so that would be where it was held. And as he knew she enjoyed her job then that would be the theme. It would be simple enough. He could plan it in a snap.

**\---**

John scratched at his chin when Sherlock approached him with his plan. “Her birthday’s in less than a week, Sherlock. I mean, it’s not a _bad_ idea, but…couldn’t you do it a bit differently? Like, maybe go to a pub she likes? Or do a different theme?”

“She’ll be pleased,” he said, steepling his fingers together in front of his face before reaching for his laptop. He was lucky enough that it was October, nearly Halloween; there were stores selling Halloween decorations which he supposed could double for party decorations for something macabre for a birthday celebrated in the morgue. “I’ll need you to distract her.”

“Just how should I do that?” he asked.

He waved his hand. “I don’t care. Keep her out of the morgue for at least an hour.”

John raised an eyebrow. “Sherlock, how well do you know Molly? I mean, have you even talked to her enough to know if she’d _really_ like this? Or are you just trying to make a guess at all this in hopes you can manipulate her later? Because if it’s the latter it’s going to blow up in your face, mark my words.”

Sherlock remained quiet, going to Google to begin looking things up. He knew a few stray facts about her. That would be enough. 

He was sure of it.

**\---**

The day approached and he was almost done putting the finishing touches on the morgue when the doors opened. He turned, fearing it was John and Molly, but it was Lestrade. His eyes were wide when he took in the room. “Oh my God,” he said.

“What?” Sherlock asked, for the first time wondering if, just possibly, he might have miscalculated. 

“It looks like the inside of a bloody horror film,” he said. “She’s going to _hate_ it. She’s not someone who likes surprises in the first place and this? This, Sherlock, is a disaster.”

Sherlock glanced at the room. Yes, it did look a bit…bloody. And dark, and, perhaps he had overdone it with the theme of death and dismemberment. But she did enjoy dealing with dead bodies. “What should I do?” he asked.

“Clean it up,” Lestrade asked.

“They’ll be here any minute,” Sherlock said.

“At least get rid of the dismembered limbs and dear God, try and get the fake blood off her tables,” Lestrade said, going for the legs.

They moved quickly, trying to temper down the horrificness of the scene. Lestrade had taken the rather full large rubbish bin outside when the morgue doors opened again and this time it was Molly and John coming in. Molly’s eyes were wide as she took in the scene and then she looked at Sherlock. “This is a…surprise,” she said. It appeared as though she was trying very hard to keep from trying to kill him. Possibly. He wasn’t quite sure. He was having trouble reading the expression on her face at the moment.

“It was supposed to be different,” Sherlock said.

“Ah,” she said as Lestrade came back in.

“The limbs are out waiting…for…janitorial…oh. Hi, Molly,” he said, giving her a sheepish grin.

Molly looked at him, then back at Sherlock, raising an eyebrow. “Limbs?” she asked.

“Artificial,” he said. “As…you enjoy your job and all.”

“Ah,” she said. She moved around Sherlock and went to her table, running her finger on the edge of it and bringing it to her nose. “Fake blood?”

“Yes,” Sherlock said with a nod.

“You really don’t know me at all,” she said quietly, taking it all in. “When I go home, I like to leave all this here, for the most part. I like cute things, like kittens and Glee and romantic comedies and all the sorts of things you turn your nose up at, probably. And surprises, especially surprise parties, are things I’m not particularly fond of. But…” She turned back around and then came over to Sherlock, leaning in and kissing his cheek. “It is the thought that counts, I suppose, so thank you.”

He felt himself warm slightly. She hated surprises, and this…this had been an epic disaster, and yet she wasn’t reading him the riot act. This could have gone so much worse. He felt incredibly lucky. “There’s food in your office,” he said, almost mumbling.

“Halloween themed?” she asked with a small smile.

He shook his head. “Catered from haz St. Paul’s. I think I managed to get all your favorites. And there is a birthday cake as well. Vanilla cake with cherry filling and butter cream frosting.”

Her smile grew wider. “Maybe you do know me a little bit after all,” she said. “But Sherlock?”

“Yes?” he said.

She gestured to the morgue. “You’re cleaning all of this up. _Today_. I still have work to do.” She then gave him a wink and then went to her office. He found himself smiling back slightly, surprisingly. Perhaps from here on out, he might find the time to get to know her better. 

Who knew what he would find out?


End file.
